


A Stargate cannot be used for shelter

by mayachain



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comment Fic, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Pining, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had other plans for this evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stargate cannot be used for shelter

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for **sheafrotherdon** 's Shared Body Heat Festival back in 2010.

“I had better things to do this evening,“ John mutters, cutting through Rodney's mantra of Carson has awesome thawing equipment, Carson has awesome thawing equipment. His voice is barely audible over the howling wind, not steady enough at all for Rodney's comfort, and still manages to get a surprising amount of annoyance through.

“Did you ,” Rodney forces through his chattering teeth, trying for mocking and failing. Being stranded on the wrong side of the 'gate in this kind of weather without even a tent is far from his favorite way to spend time, either. It still hurts to hear John say he'd rather not be here with him.

“Had it all planned out,” John murmurs into Rodney's chest, burrowing closer in a way Rodney has to remind himself is impersonal, no matter how intimate. Their uniforms are not made to withstand conditions this extreme, something that whoever is responsible for this failure will learn Rodney's opinion about, at great length. While Rodney himself isn't faring much better, John's thin frame offers no protection at all against the icy gusts of wind.

“I'd have told Woolsey aaall about this boring rock of shit,” John continues, starting an absent-minded rubbing motion along Rodney's arms. It's too slow to do either of them any good, another sign that Lorne's team needs to stop blocking the 'gate yesterday.

“A hot shower,” John mumbles, “something to eat, and then beer, you, me, cars, maybe even –“ He stops, and Rodney gets the weird impression that the cold has not only made his friend more talkative, it has very nearly made him say something he would normally have kept silent.

“Maybe even...?” he prompts, and if he presses another inch closer, it's only because he thinks there is now actual ice coming at them.

“Me, you,” John slurs after a moment. At first, Rodney thinks it's a repetition, but then he says it again, more softly and sounding sad, of all things, “me, you,” and that's when Rodney knows he got it all wrong.

He takes John's near-frozen hand, grabs it tight, tucks his own and John's body as closely together as he can manage, lowers his cheek to John's forehead and whispers, “Why don't we get started on that.”


End file.
